The Golden Legacy
Buzz.
There was no explosion. No thunderous shockwave. No suffocating pressure that forced mortals to kneel in instinctive submission.
And yet, the moment Eileen's fingers brushed the relic, I—dwelling deep within her consciousness as a higher-dimensional observer—felt it.
A familiarity long buried in memory.
[System Notification: High-purity psionic residue detected.]
[Data Analysis: Origin—temporary account No.001 (terminated). Energy signature matches the one-time-use auxiliary account deployed in Pamenio.]
[Oh? Left behind by that girl who aided the old man in Pamenio. Tsk. A mortal frame attempting to channel that level of power—it was destined to burn out. The account collapsed into ashes… but in doing so, it preserved something useful.]
Within the finger bone lingered a trace of the Emperor's power.
To me, it was no more than a droplet in an endless sea.
But for Eileen's mortal physiology, it was different. This energy had already undergone purification and adaptive mutation through a human vessel. It was stabilized. Tempered.
Perfect as a patch.
[Recommendation: Absorb and recycle. Idle storage is inefficient.]
[System Operation: Energy Recycling Program initiated.]
[Executing: Body Enhancement Protocol.]
…
In reality, every eye in the chamber was fixed on Eileen's hand.
The grey-white finger bone trembled violently—yet it did not shatter. Instead, it softened, almost liquefying from within. A thin stream of radiant, liquid gold seeped through a fissure along its surface.
It did not disperse.
Like a living thing, it coiled gently around her fingertip and slipped beneath her skin.
"Huh—?"
Startled, Eileen tried to withdraw her hand. Too late.
Warmth flooded her arm, then her chest, then every extremity.
It was indescribable comfort.
Like thawing after freezing in the underhive's winter winds.
Like swallowing hot broth after three days of scavenging the Nest City's refuse without a proper meal.
The dull aches in her joints—lingering reminders of malnutrition and exhaustion—vanished.
The microscopic tears hidden within her blood vessels, scars left behind by that previous divine outburst, were filled and reinforced. Golden light threaded through her like a master artisan repairing cracked porcelain.
Her pallor faded. Color returned to her cheeks.
Her bones grew denser.
Her muscles tightened with clean, efficient strength.
Even her breathing deepened—steady, unburdened.
[System Notification: Patch successfully installed.]
[Host Physical Status Updated: [Fragile Glass] → [Reinforced Ceramic].]
[Additional Note: Explosives remain lethal. However, bending iron utensils manually is now feasible. Classification update: from "breakable hamster" to "durable hamster." Congratulations.]
The glow dimmed.
The relic completed its final purpose and collapsed into ordinary ash within the black reliquary.
Eileen blinked.
She clenched her fist experimentally. Energy thrummed beneath her skin. She felt as though she could sprint up ten flights of stairs without losing breath.
Her gaze drifted to the marble table before her—crafted from polished Macurag white marble quarried from Ultramar's own territories.
Almost absentmindedly, she pinched its corner.
Snap.
The sound was sharp and final.
A fragment broke free as easily as a biscuit.
Silence fell.
Roboute Guilliman stared at the fractured marble, brows rising—his hand still hovering near the chamber's security activator.
Uriel Ventris's grip tightened on his halberd, red helm optics flickering as tactical assessments recalculated.
Sergeant Varro's jaw slackened behind ceramite. This was the same girl who had complained that her boots were too heavy.
And Mathieu—
"WAAAAAHHHH!"
The state priest collapsed to his knees, weeping openly.
"The inheritance! The divine inheritance!"
Tears and mucus streaked his face as he formed the aquila over his chest again and again, forehead striking the floor in ecstatic reverence.
"The Saintess of Pamenio lives! Her power has returned! The Emperor has not forsaken us! A living miracle!"
He scrambled forward like a penitent crawling toward absolution.
"Let me touch you, Saint! Let me feel His radiance! I am dust—I am unworthy—but I have witnessed truth!"
Eileen recoiled in alarm, clutching the marble shard.
"Robert! He's gone mad! He's going to bite me!"
Before Mathieu's fingers could brush her hem, a massive cerulean gauntlet seized him by the collar.
Sergeant Varro lifted him effortlessly, boots dangling above the floor.
"No contact," Varro intoned, voice amplified and cold. "Maintain five-meter distance. Final warning."
"Blasphemy!" Mathieu shrieked midair. "You cannot obstruct faith!"
"Enough, Mathieu."
Guilliman stepped forward and knelt before Eileen.
He examined her hand carefully.
No mutation.
No uncontrolled warp signature.
No signs of corruption.
Only stable vitality—stronger than before.
The Primarch exhaled slowly.
His gaze shifted to the ashes within the reliquary.
He was no priest. He had spent millennia rejecting the deification of his father.
And yet…
That was the Emperor's power.
Not destructive. Not wrathful.
Protective.
As though ensuring this vessel would not burn as the previous one had.
Father… what are you planning?
"Regent!" Mathieu cried. "You saw it! She is the rightful heir! It must be proclaimed across the Imperium—"
"Silence."
The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop.
"This event is classified," Guilliman said evenly. "Utter a single word beyond this room, and you will find yourself mining the Ghoul Stars under charges of heretical rumor."
Mathieu swallowed and nodded frantically, though fervor still burned behind his eyes.
"Remove him."
Varro carried the priest out.
At last, quiet returned.
Eileen glanced at the broken marble, then up at Guilliman.
"Robert… I broke the table. That's expensive, right? I don't have money…"
For a heartbeat, something almost like amusement flickered across the Primarch's face.
She was stronger now. No longer a fragile doll.
And that strength would draw eyes.
Dangerous eyes.
"Come," Guilliman said, rising. His shadow fell over her protectively. "Dinner stands. I promised you rare steak."
"Okay!"
Out of old habit from the Nest City scrapyards, Eileen discreetly pocketed the marble fragment.
Just as Guilliman reached for the door control—
The chamber's hololithic communicator erupted in crimson light.
"Alarm. Alarm. Outer defenses of Hera Fortress breached. Intruder identification: Imperial Inquisition. Authorization: Envoy of the Terra High Lords Council."
Guilliman's hand froze.
His eyes hardened to glacial steel.
"It appears," he said quietly, "our guests have arrived sooner than expected."